Date: 05 October 1998 11:03

Subject: Malawi Just when you finally finished reading the last email, here's another....

We would be brief as promised, but many people have begged us not to shorten our emails at all - and who are we to fly in the face of popular opinion. (Okay so it was only my mum but we like writing them). On the way into Malawi we met a guy called Adrian Kelly. Nearly a week into Zimbabwe and we still seem to be travelling together. As a result he features rather heavily in our Malawi adventures...

MARK THE GREAT Malawi's position as the bridge between East and Southern Africa makes it a popular resting place for travellers. As a result it's highly likely that you meet up with people that you've come across earlier on in your trip. What is surprising though, is the dramatic transformation that many people had undergone in the intervening weeks. One classic example of this Malawian Metamorphosis was Mark an Mancunian Electrician who had emigrated to Australia four years ago. Now we'd first met Mark in Kampala. He'd been a chatty, polite, articulate young man. However by the time we met him again in Nkhata Bay he had hooked up with six male Aussies/Kiwis and a heady cocktail of alcohol / soft drugs on the Lake Malawi beaches had turned him into a piss-taking, charming drunk barely capable of coherent thought. He had also been rechristened 'Mark The Great'. It was the same story for many other travellers.

GORDON Malawi in general, seemed a place where people indulged in beach parties and unbelievable quantities of Mary Jane. Gordon appeared, when we first me him, to be your classic spaced out, Aussie surfer dude. Apart from the accent being misleading (he was from SA), he lived up to all expectations. I'm not sure if he'll ever leave Malawi. We all had a few bizarre conversations with him (stoned or straight - it was difficult to tell the difference). His favourite topic was how he would smuggle his 'cob' out of the country. His current plan was to boil it up with a pot of peanut butter and then put it back in the jar. He'd then list all of the different ways you could eat it (on its own, on toast, in a sandwich, on its own, with cheese, with jam, with banana, on its own)

JOURNEY FROM KARONGA TO MZUZU One memorable journey whilst we were in Malawi was from Karonga in the north of the country down to Mzuzu about 220km further south. Our mode of transport that day was the back of a flat-bed truck carrying a tractor (unfortunately one enterprising local beat us to the best seat in the house - the tractor seat itself - added suspension and all that...). Now even though the back of the truck afforded excellent panoramic views of the surrounding countryside, most of the trip's enjoyment came elsewhere. First, there was the flat tyre. When we discovered that the vehicle actually had a spare (no tread obviously) and a jack, things were obviously going too well. Right we were! The truck's tool kit didn't extend to a spanner to undo the wheel nuts - so we were left on a pretty deserted track waiting for a similar sized vehicle to come along - only an hour's wait. However, the highlight of the trip had to be the pig lifting competition. About an hour out of Mzuzu, we stopped to pick up several additional passengers - five pigs bound for market. The first four were unceremonially hauled into the truck by their ears and by a rope attached to one leg (the underside of the tractor was to be their pen for the journey). However, this was just the warm-up - out came the sow! - about 34 times the size of the other pigs. After much squealing, grunting, snorting and ear-pulling, the animal was finally aboard and we were on our way again.

THE ILALA Our 2 day journey down Lake Malawi on the passenger ferry, The llala, will also linger in our memories for some time. The most surprising thing about this trip was the food available in the saloon - it was a real throwback to the colonial era. Rather than the usual fish and rice that we had become accustomed to in Malawi, the menu that evening consisted of: 1st course: Macaroni cheese 2nd course: Onion soup 3rd course: Roast chicken, roast potatoes and vegetable 4th course: Jam rolypoly and custard 5th course: Coffee As you can see, we were experiencing the real Africa that evening. However, it was back to nsima and beans the next day.....

ALAN & BETH Alan and Beth have to rank as the most cautious and conservative travellers we've come across so far. Their vivid imaginations (they were writers for fantasy role playing games such as Dungeons & Dragons) must have contributed to their almost neurotic concern regarding the safety of travel on African public transport. Two particular examples stick in our minds...

1 ) After an on-board inspection, they concluded that the llala (see above paragraph) was listing too dangerously and was not worth risking (a gruelling 12 hour overnight bus journey was taken instead)

2) Their choice of which bus to take from Blantyre to Harare was not based on time of departure or cost. Instead they were swayed by the assurances from one quick-witted manager who, sizing up his potential customers very well, guaranteed that all drivers had passed a rigorous accident prevention course.

KENNY AND MR IMPOSSIBLE We'd heard that in one particular place in Nkhata Bay there was a tailor who could make a pair of trousers in a day for about 70p (material cost about 80p). Obviously we couldn't resist and went looking for Kenny the Tailor. Arriving at roughly the place we thought Kenny's shop was we saw a man with a sewing machine and approached him. The conversation went something like this...

US "We're looking for Kenny the tailor"

HIM "Impossible!"

US "Do you know Kenny?"

HIM " No"

US " We're looking for someone who makes trousers"

HIM "Yes"

US "What's your name?"

HIM "Impossible"

US " Is Kenny around?"

HIM "65 Kwacha" [Malawi currency]

US "Do you understand what we're saying?"

HIM "Impossible"

US " Thank you very much"

HIM "Yes"

This kind of exchange has been pretty common since we arrived in Africa, but Mr Impossible just timed his answers perfectly. Adrian was the only one who managed to keep a straight face. We eventually found Kenny - 'Cool Man' - he made both the boys a pair of particularly tasteful baggy pants (Rich has a gold stripey pair, Adrian a tarzan print).

THE FULL MOON We also went on a couple of dives in Lake Malawi whilst we were staynig at Cape Maclear (our swim in Lake Victoria meant that we'd already resigned ourselves to a course of anti-bilharzia tablets). The night dive was certainly the most interesting but not just because of the catfish and cornish jacks that were out hunting for food that evening. Towards the end of the dive when we were bobbing around about 4-5m beneath the surface of the water, we were spotted from the surface by one of the instructors from a rival dive school. He duck dived down and swam towards our dive guide - Karsten. Positioning his bottom about three inches from Karsten's face the rival instructor proceeded to pull his shorts down and produce the second full moon of the evening.

PICK UP TO MONKEY BAY Leaving the beach for the last time we had to get a lift on the back o f a pick up to the local town (about an hour). There weren't many, so we got up early to find 6 other muzungus also getting the same lift. All 9 of us got in with our rucksacks and daypacks. Over the next 10 minutes they managed to squeeze another 16 people in the back (I think we were going for a world record!). The girl next to me and I were sharing the joy of having another woman sit on our lap. Adrian was particularly happy to note that his knees were excellent balancing mechanisms as 2 different men held on to him for the entire journey as he nestled up to Rich. I'm really hoping that that photo comes out!

PHONECALLS An email about Malawi has to include mention of Adrian's dogged determination to phone home. The deal was that Nova (his partner) would receive a call once a week (in the evening so that she could call back). Before meeting Adrian i would have said that it was virtually impossible to phone after hours at all. I was wrong. We have now twice sat back and watched while Adrian's walked for miles, spent a fortune, waited for hours and slowly but surely got livid with some official or other trying to phone the UK. The funniest time was in Nkhata Bay (sorry Nova, it was funny to us). He got up early to try and catch Nova before work. The only place to phone was from the Post Office. 4 hours later he returned saying that he thought, maybe, he'd left a message on the answerDhone. Trvina aaain the next day he arrived at the Post Office at 7am to find out the phone was broken. The Post Office was right at the top of the hill, but Adrian returned every hour until 4pm when he eventually got through. Arranging for Nova to call back that evening, we were all at a beach party having a few beers when Adrian once again took the long trek up the hill to the phone kiosk outside the Post Office. Arriving half an hour before the alotted time just to make absolutely sure nothing would go wrong, a man says... "Are you Adrian? Nova phoned twice, half an hour ago" Confusion over the time zones was to blame. All I can say is that it must be love!

HITCH TO BLANTYRE Having decided that hitching was our preferred mode of transport, on this particular 250km journey we held out for a nice ride. A SA man, with his wife and daughter were going all the way to Blantyre and let us in the back of their pick up (great suspension). Immediately chuffed the trip would take 3 hours not 6 if we weren't going to stop every 5 minutes. We stopped only twice - for beer. At the 2nd stop we were pretty surprised to see the street sellers. INstead of the usual bananas or fish, they were selling punnets of fabulous looking strawberries, raspberries and tayberries. That should really have prepared us for Blantyre - people were driving Mercs and BMWs, carrying mobile phones, obeying the traffic lights. There was even a swimming pool at the hostel - all of a sudden it felt like Southern Africa. CHANGING MONEY A final word on our border crossing through Mozambique to Zimbabwe. As usual we wanted to change money at the crossing. Rich and I now have a routine: he agrees a price, I take the money from them and check it's the right amount and that they're not forgeries (notes up to the light, the works) then Rich carefully counts our money into their hands. It sounds like a right old rigmarole, but you've got to be careful!! Once it was all over a chap called me over and told me that changing money where we were was illegal and that there were lots of plain clothes police around. If someone had said before we'd have been a little more subtle ooooooooops!! That's your lot! Once again thanks for reading. For those of you cunning enough to notice that we skipped Tanzania.... yeah well we were getting a bit behind .

r & t